


Maybe Loving Someone at Kaer Morhen

by The Space Bard (GraceJordan)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Confession, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceJordan/pseuds/The%20Space%20Bard
Summary: Jaskier is frustrated by his break-up with a certain Countess. That is, until he learns he may have an admirer who's stayed silent for far too long....
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 148





	1. Revealing Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://incorrectly-quoted-queers.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thespacebard/?hl=en

“I don’t understand women sometimes. I mean, the Countess and I were having a great time. Why did she have to ruin it?”

Though Jaskier was comfortably laying in the grass, Yennefer preferred a couch under a tree. Initially Vesemir wasn’t too keen on a sofa being in the training area, but per usual, Yennefer won the argument. 

He’d never been a huge fan of hers, but they had a sort of bond now, watching over Ciri and the Witchers at Kaer Morhen. They wouldn’t admit it, but it was the closest either of them got to a happy home life. 

Perched on her proverbial queen’s throne, Yennefer rolled her eyes. “I think perhaps you sleeping with her husband ruined it, love.”

“I thought bringing equality and honesty to their marriage would’ve been good for them.” Flicking an insect off his pants, Jaskier wondered why he never got himself a sofa.

Granted, it would be harder to see the sun in the shade. 

When Yennefer didn’t add anything, he continued his complaining. He wasn’t quite done yet, and her silence was not going to stop him now. “What will I even do with myself, without a lover to entertain myself with? Should I find a local noble? A wandering hero? A beautiful tavern flower? The options sound tantalizing, but they are so few and far between up here where no one but jaded Witchers hang their damn hats.”

“You’re joking, right?” 

Of all things, Jaskier did not like her tone. He propped himself up on his elbows and knitted his brows. “I know you don’t care about romance right now, too busy being a mother hen, but it is an absolute staple of my personality, thank you.”

“No, you absolute-” Yennefer sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, like he said something profoundly stupid. He knew the look because she often looked at him this way, but this one seemed especially sour. “You know Geralt’s in love with you, right?”

The laughter that bubbled out of Jaskier wasn’t cute, to say the least. “Geralt? Give a rat’s ass about me? Hardly.”

“You idiot men are so clueless.” 

“I take offense to that.”

“Well then get smarter.” Yennefer leaned into the arm of her sofa and rested her face on her hands. “He’s been mooning after you for years. But he’s a sad, tragic prick who will never say anything. I thought you chose not to notice.”

Jaskier sat up all the way and pressed a hand to his beating heart. “You have to be fucking with me. Of course I’d notice if my Witcher had any feelings for me.” And if he did, how dare you not tell me sooner. 

“You can’t be serious-” After getting this laser-focus look in her eye, Yennefer gasped. “Oh my god, you are. I never bothered to look into your mind because I assumed it was full of drivel, but you sincerely think that blatant fool of a man doesn’t pine after you.” Then she frowned. “Wait, what was that song about my tits in there-”

Jolting up, Jaskier started to walk away as quickly as he could. He didn’t need to die by magical hands just as he got possibly the most important information of his life. 

If Geralt really did feel that way-

Well, be still his damned beating heart, this changed everything. 

So, it was time to test Yennefer’s assertion. 

Jaskier mustered up all his courage and extravagant acting skills for this one, as he walked up the steps to Geralt’s room. He hadn’t gotten to say hello to him yet, since coming back from the Countess. The bard assumed that his stupid Witcher didn’t care. 

Maybe he was wrong this whole time. 

But if he was going to pull this little gambit off, he really had to sell it. Giving himself a few seconds to get the right proper tragic, dramatic face, he didn’t knock on Geralt’s wooden door. No, he just waltzed himself in, slamming it and making as much noise as possible. 

And there he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, his cotton shirt half on, cleaning the blades of his swords. Those yellow eyes looked up at him and, now that the bard was paying attention, there was a flicker of something bright before a deep scowl took over his face. 

“Jaskier-”

The bard wasn’t going to let his expressions push him away, with some growl or bark to try to bite away at the bard’s desire to be by his side. No, this time he had supposed insider information and Jaskier was going to run with it. 

Flopping on Geralt’s bed, pouting up at the Witcher, Jaskier said, “That’s it. I’m never dating another woman again.”

He looked for any movement on Geralt’s face from the corner of his eye; he almost missed the twitch of a smile. “Countess dumped you?”

“Yes, but not the usual one. It seems my type is unavailable women who will never compromise or accept me as I am, not to my face, at least.” Well, that wasn’t quite what happened, but this fit his little game a bit better. 

Ever the bizarre friend, Geralt patted his shoulder like he was a damned horse. “You’re a good bard.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jaskier was looking for, and it made him a little huffy. Maybe Yennefer was talking out of her ass, just trying to make a fool out of him.

“My ego needs no stroking, Geralt, I know I’m wonderful. I just think it’s high time I focus solely on men for awhile.”

As if by magic, those stressless shoulders stiffened. Now, if it was because he had interest or merely was uncomfortable with Jaskier talking about boning men while on his bed, that was the next step. After a beleaguered silence of creepily watching the Witcher’s every face-twitch, the man coughed and said, “Like who?”

Jaskier had to choke on a few breaths to resuscitate his damn heart. Holy hell, Yennefer might’ve been on to something. 

Now was not the time to panic. Sure, he’d been somewhat interested in hearing Geralt say his name among strained groans for years at this point. But he couldn’t get too excited and scare the clam of a man. Otherwise he’d shut the fuck up, and fast. 

He swallowed and tried to act casual, doing his normal egregious hand gestures. “Same type, honestly, just different sexy bits.”

If the bard didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn those stiff shoulders were now melting into the slightest blush peeking from the back of the Witcher’s neck. 

He had to keep going. 

Sitting up slowly, knowing he was positioning himself a little closer to Geralt than he normally would, Jaskier said, “Now just to find myself a good option.”

Geralt mumbled something. 

Jaskier had to keep pushing. “What was that?”

Under his breath, the Witcher said, “Maybe one is closer than you think.”

Oh, so the man was going to play vague with him. That was... something. But he also knew Geralt a little too well, and vague never went anywhere. He had to keep sending him towards the brink of bubbling thoughts before the man would tip over and talk about his damn feelings. 

So, he pulled the meanest card he could.

Smirking, Jaskier countered, “Do you mean Lambert? Because whilst he’s a delinquent, I have to admit, he’s got a decent face--”

“Absolutely not.” The response practically rumbled out of Geralt’s chest like fucking thunder. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure if he should be a little scared or turned on. 

Probably both, if he was going to be honest. 

Before he could say anything about it, Geralt put his sword on the bed and bolted upright. “Never mind, you’re not dating anyone here, ever.” 

And then he walked out of the damn room. 

Funny, considering it was his room in the first place. 

The second Geralt’s door slammed behind him, Jaskier let out an embarrassing snort of laughter. He’d hate telling Yennefer she was right, but this one might actually be worth it. 

Running his hand across the hilt of Geralt’s blade, wondering how long the Witcher had been keeping romantic secrets from him, Jaskier said to himself, “Don’t act so sure about that, Geralt of Rivia.” And then he sputtered out some more unladylike laughter that’d he really have to deal with another day that wasn’t today. “Now the real fun begins.”

Just as he stopped talking, though, the door slammed back open and Geralt had this perturbed frown on his face. “This is my room.”

“Yes, and you just stomped out of it. It was quite adorable.”

The frown on the Witcher’s face deepened. “I was tending my blades. Out.”

“Alright, alright.” Even though he was exiting Geralt’s room for now, he was still going to leave the man with some torment. Jaskier smiled over his shoulder and asked, “But what if tonight, since we haven’t seen each other in awhile, we shared a bed like those poor early days of travel? How nostalgic that’d be, tucked up against you and-”

“Out.” 

Face forward, Jaskier had to hide his overblown smiles to keep the ruse going. “See you later, Geralt.” 

As the door shut behind him, he really couldn’t wait for the next time those yellow eyes met his. After all, he was going to make the stubborn man tell him what he felt, if it was the last thing he did.


	2. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier tries to pry open a Witcher with poor communication skills with... less than admirable means

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: https://incorrectly-quoted-queers.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thespacebard/?hl=en

For the past few days, Jaskier kept a close eye on Geralt after the weird encounter in his bedroom, where his Witcher revealed that maybe there was more between them. 

He contemplated using Ciri as a spy, maybe prying into Geralt’s innermost thought, using his weakness towards his little princess. After he realized how inconsistent children were, he figured easy: put himself in danger and make Geralt confess. However, he’d been in danger many times before and Geralt would barely confess they were friends, let alone beyond that. Then he contemplated the old “I’m getting married” or “i’m dying” but he didn’t know if the damned man would be too shocked to even react. Everything he thought of had too many flaws, and he just couldn’t take those kind of risks. 

Not with Geralt.

So, he just spent the last couple days watching, praying inspiration came to him. 

But perhaps it was too close of an eye. 

When he was watching Geralt do some exercises with Ciri by the firelight, Lambert came out of nowhere with the kind of curiosity in his eyes that could get entire empires killed. “You’re watching big, white, and grumpy like a hungry hawk. What? Plan on eating him?”

Lambert’s annoying humor was not amusing. 

Well, it would have been amusing if it wasn’t aimed at him. 

At his interruption, the bard scowled. “Ha ha ha, you’re so hilarious. Buzz off, it’s none of your business.”

“Now I’m actually interested. Normally you would’ve loved that one.”

Making friends with Lambert during all his times here, waiting for Geralt, was now something Jaskier regretted. he was trying to devise a plan to get the Witcher to talk open and honest with him for once, not get drawn into his Lambert hijinks. 

Sure, he still wore that raisin bread actually filled with beetles prank like a badge of goddamn honor, but that wasn’t the point. 

He had slightly more important things at hand than trying to figure out how to trick the less enticing Witcher to make a fool of himself. 

When Jaskier didn’t answer, though, Lambert sat on top of the table, sidling in close, giving him this pathetic pout. “C’mon, shit’s so boring when you ignore me. I like our little games better.” Like a gnat flicking his ear, Lambert started to poke up Jaskier’s thigh, heading for his ticklish sides. 

For fuck’s sake, the man was a nuisance. His friend as well, to be sure, he kept him occupied when Geralt was being moody, but a nuisance nonetheless. 

Swatting Lambert’s encroaching hand, Jaskier scowled. “We can play “who’s the biggest dick at a later date. I need to focus.”

“On what, imagining who has the biggest dick? Cause it’s me. Easy.”

Jaskier didn’t mean to snort with laughter, but he did. Mostly because from all the bathtime assistance he was pretty sure he knew the real answer, unless all Witcher’s were packing under their leather pants. 

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier shoved his shoulder, trying to make some distance. “Oh fuck off.” 

Like the petty pest he was, Lambert instead leaned in closer to his ear. “Tell me what’s up or I will ruin whatever ploy you have going to get Geralt pay attention to you.” 

At his threat, Jaskier turned to him, stunned. Lambert just sat there, smirking with the smugness of a tourney winner who cheated on the final round, waggling his eyebrows. 

What a fucking bitch. 

This man he had an almost sibling-like rivalry with definitely knew too much about him. He might have to kill him. 

Before Jaskier could tell him off or strangle him with a lute string, he became acutely aware of someone standing in front of them. 

Looking up from thick leather belt to crossed biceps and finally to the scowl and yellow glare that came together like earrings and pendants, Jaskier swallowed slowly. Mostly because he looked pissed, but also because, despite all their years together, Geralt’s sex appeal still took him by surprise when he least expected it. 

Jaskier thought of bunny rabbits. And maybe Ciri and Yennefer playing with said bunny rabbits while listening to the awful musical talents of Valdo Marx (or the lack thereof). Literally the least sexy thing he could think of. 

But those yellow eyes kept peering. 

Leaning back on his palms, Jaskier said, “H-Hello Geralt. Nice weather we’re having today. What brings your leather-clad, muscle-bound, slightly sweaty self over to our delinquency?” 

His own description did not help the situation, and it stuck in his brain like thick tar, eating at his thoughts. Why not think about the way that leather and those muscles interacted? No big deal. No inappropriate wandering thoughts ever came from that. 

“What the fuck are you and Lambert doing?”

At first Jaskier’s brow furrowed, because geralt often found them being idiots. But then he remembered his own words: Lambert has a nice face.  
Oh fuck.

Jaskier didn’t even have the time to clear things up before Lambert, idiot he was, starting talking for him. “Oh don’t worry about us, Ger. We’re just two friends sitting real close talking about things that only very good friends talk about.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“I apologize, I think just talking to the bard has my head in the clouds. He so does that with his words and other fucking fanciful abilities, right?”

When Lambert flashed this toothy grin at him, Jaskier was ready to recoil into his own ribcage and live there like a damned turtle. He just kept looking panicked between Geralt and Lambert, one a self-satisfied ass of a man and the other a looming storm. 

The way the shadows were playing off Geralt’s face right now were only making him look all the more terrifying. 

Shaking his head, Jaskier, was trying to get it through Lambert’s head that this was not the time to fuck around. he had to plan this out carefully; he couldn’t fuck up making Geralt talk or he might never talk, ever. And he couldn’t bear that. 

Yet here was this chaotic asshole, tossing a ticking bomb into the situation. 

Maybe he understood why Yennefer had such a short fuse for his own chaos. And that was an even harder pill to swallow. 

His head turned to Geralt, and he insisted, “Lambert’s being an ass, it’s another dumb prank, I am not doing anything of the sort with him. I mean, look at his beard, Geralt. The way it scraggles is unbearable.”

The Witcher across from them only looked more confused.

Right, conveying style and grooming to Geralt wouldn’t quite work. 

Just as he moved to open his mouth, Lambert had this glint in his eye, the kind when he caught onto something he could exploit. And it sent a chill of feeling doomed through Jaskier’s spine, and his faced paled. 

Placing a hand on Jaskier’s knee, he smirked at Jaskier and said, “Don’t worry, sweets, Geralt will understand. He brings all those sorcereresses here, anyway.” He turned his face towards the man of Rivia that Jaskier was desperate not to lose, and the bard was afraid his attempt at meddling had taken the worst possible turn it could. He’d rather they stalemate like idiots than have geralt look at him like...

Well, how he was looking at him now. Like they were strangers. 

That didn’t stop Lambert’s big fat mouth. “Y’see, Geralt, your bard and I have a wild night together and-”

“Enough.” Unfurling his arms, Geralt’s jaw looked like it could bite through someone’s skull, it was so stiff. Jaskier swallowed and definitely never wanted to talk about how he thought scary Geralt was hot, too. “Jaskier. We need to talk. Now.”

Before the bard could even give a proper response, Geralt grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the common area, towards some halls where they would be alone. 

While fear was dancing a damn jig on his nerve endings, he also couldn’t ignore Geralt’s firm hold on his fingers. It was making his heart skips beats, which was pretty dangerous considering it was already seizing up from the previous goddamn conversation.

He dared a single glance back at Lambert, and the idiot man was mouthing “you’re welcome”. 

If this didn’t go well, he was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was requested by @caspertheassholeghost, @ginbiscuit, @bardic-charm, and @g-l-o-w-y-l-i-g-h-t-s and a few others, so thanks guys for enjoying my writing!!!!! This story is dedicated to y'all


	3. Better With Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bard and Witcher finally talk about their feelings... well, at least one of them talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: https://incorrectly-quoted-queers.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thespacebard/?hl=en

He already felt like he spent half his time being dragged by the ear like a child because the ragtag group at Kaer Morhen didn’t enjoy his whimsy as much as he did. But having Geralt do it, not because he did something hilarious but because Lambert was forcing his hand?

Well, let’s just say Jaskier was not pleased.

The only thing that made it better in the slightest was how tightly the Witcher’s hand wound around his, like he was afraid to lose him. 

After all, Jaskier knew what it was like to have his hand grabbed out of anger. Geralt was very good at that. This was something different altogether. Normally, his real moments of rage were never this decomposed. 

When the Witcher finally dragged them into a often forgotten hallway (the kind he and Ciri used to sneak treats late at night), he finally let Jaskier’s hand slip through his fingers and tossed him safely in between the narrow walls. 

It was really annoying how Geralt did that, was all rough and rude but just gentle enough that it made his heart skip a few beats. He could write a whole sonnet about the fascinating and magnetic balance but...

Well, but those yellow eyes and crossed arms didn’t lend for writing time at the moment. 

Instead, Jaskier opened his mouth and said, with arms aflourish, “That was completely Lambert, I was not-”

“Don’t lie, Jaskier. I know what you’re up to.” Geralt’s chest heaved these large, deep breaths that seemed to be the only thing evening his temper. But his jaw was still so stiff it could break fucking rocks and that mildly terrified the bard feet in front of him. “I’m just disappointed you think that’s the answer.”

For fuck’s sake, he had to make that joke, didn’t he? Needle Geralt once about Lambert’s okay enough face and then Lambert had to be a right prick and then the big wolfy Witcher got all insecure and thought they were fucking. 

Jaskier’s stomach churned. If only he wasn’t such a prick himself. He wouldn’t have to explain how much he didn’t want to touch Lambert’s dick. 

Exasperated, his arms kept doing their flailing thing while he said, “I’m not sleeping with Lambert!”

Geralt seemed unamused, exhausted, even. The statement didn’t make him move at all. “I know you aren’t, you idiot! But you are trying to manipulate me!”

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

And with that Jaskier, slapped his hand against the wall, though that would prove to be a mistake. The pain that shot through his hand made him wince and shake his palm. He couldn’t even be properly frustrated in front of Geralt without fucking it up. So he stuck with what he was good at: words. “If I knew what you meant maybe we wouldn’t be in a hallway yelling at each other, yet here we are. And everything between us seems to be a never-ending chorus of “yet here we are” with no logical conclusion and perhaps I’ve gone a bit insane in the process. Perhaps we should talk like normal human beings instead of constantly saying things like “You know what I mean” and “I know what you’re up to” when clearly we don’t.”

Across from him, Geralt swallowed, the slow kind of way when something lodged in your throat. 

The Witcher practically growled his words, but he said, “Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to trick me into saying things you want me to say.”

“Touche.” Sighing, Jaskier took a step closer to Geralt. He scanned his body, trying to look for opportunities in that thick armor the man put on himself every morning. With one loose finger falling from his crossed arms, Jaskier tugged at it before looking up at the yellow eyes he loved more than he would even dare admit. “But it doesn’t make what I said before wrong.”

Geralt wouldn’t look straight at him, though. “Saying these kinds of things isn’t easy for me.”

“If you won’t say anything when I flirt with you and you won’t say anything when I flirt with other people, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s when Jaskier dropped touching him, dropped even looking at him. He paced backwards, felt the wear on his heartstrings start rippling stress across his body. If they couldn’t even get anywhere while they were talking frankly about this shit...

Well, where the fuck were they?

Finally looking back at Geralt, who still was clenching his jaw like his life depended on it, Jaskier threw his arms out. “And here is why he have a problem, because for some fucking reason you can’t talk and all I want to do is hear what you need to say but I don’t know what to do to make you say it!” And with his arms, his words, went all his energy. His hands fell to his sides, his angst faded into that ache and longing that kept him up at night, and he damned Yennefer, wishing he kept never having a clue about Geralt.

Because assuming his best friend had no interest in him was easier than knowing he did, and yet the man still wouldn’t fucking tell him. 

His voice quieter, tired, Jaskier asked, “Why won’t you say what you’re feeling?”

The damned Witcher had the gall to turn away from him. “I can’t.”

“Well, then I guess we accept that we never-” But Jaskier stopped himself mid-sentence, unable to bear his thoughts drifting to Geralt one more night if this is how he would treat him. 

As a bard, he had one more trick up his sleeve. If Geralt wouldn’t talk of his own accord, he could at least make him listen and watch, give the Witcher one last performance before he retired. 

Grabbing Geralt’s shoulder, he turned the man around and said, with as much confidence as he could muster, “Well, then I’ll say it for you: Why yes, Jaskier, I have deeper, more romantic feelings for you and why yes, they do drive me a little mad. You drive me mad. But my constant insecurities and abandonment issues make me completely fucking cut off from the idea that you could actually love me and mean it. This is in spite of the fact that everyone knows you’d give your life for me. You may have used music to change the world just so life could be easier for me because you helplessly love me, but I still I don’t believe you. So, here we are.” The wind practically swept intself out of Jaskier’s lungs by the end, and Geralt’s eyes were finally trained on him, unable to look away. A little breathless, the bard asked, “Anything to say to that?” 

Geralt shook his head. 

Even though it lit a cascade of matches in Jaskier’s heart, and he’d rather set this whole damn keep on fire before leaving him, maybe it was time to accept the Witcher never cared about him like that.

Not really, not enough.

And if he did, he’d still never give him what he needed. As Jaskier was a mortal, he couldn’t spend his entire life chasing after a man who’d never want him. 

He turned, and he knew that he probably still would, but he at least needed some space for now. “Fine then.” 

But then his shoulder got turned by a course, heavy hand and Jaskier felt himself pushed up against the stone wall and two lips fell onto his. 

Soon enough, Geralt was cupping his face with his hands, and he could feel that slow, steady Witcher heart beat against his chest. Just like the way Geralt had held his hand, the kiss was some unique mix of unruly passion caged in the gentle fear of a man who knew he was stronger than anyone in the room.

When the Witcher finally pulled away, when Jaskier was starting to run out of air, Geralt was just as breathless as the bard had been after his speech. His forehead pressed against Jaskier’s, soft but solid, and their noses brushed. “Fuck. I’m not good with words.” 

“I’ll say.” A stream of laughter bubbled out of Jaskier, but before he could scare Geralt away, he grabbed his hips to hold him there. “Thank god you’re good at other things.” 

Safe to say, the two missed dinner that night. And Yennefer and Lambert gave each other the most bizarre high-five when Jaskier walked out of Geralt’s room the next day. 

But fuck them, he’d take their smugness as long as he finally got to fall in love with his favorite Witcher of Kaer Morhen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter goes out to everyone who wanted this little mini-story before this and particularly @ginbiscuit, @compsocerus-violaceus, @bardic-charm, @g-l-o-w-y-l-i-g-h-t-s, @localgaycatastrophie, and @dapandapod
> 
> It was a fun little bit and they deserve recognition for inspiring me and cheering me on <3

**Author's Note:**

> Based off an incorrect quote that some Tumblr followers asked be turned into a full fic. Thanks @nim-nim-1994 and @g-l-o-w-y-l-i-g-h-t-s


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